Amnesiac
by Devil's Eye
Summary: On Christmas Eve, the Grangers were attacked, forcing Hermione to lose all memory of that night as well as the belief that magic exists and her time at Hogwarts. Nearly a decade later, a man from her past life will reappear with an offer...
1. Default Chapter

A/N: I already have most of this story planned out with a very possible Draco and Hermione pairing. Don't even try to change my mind.   
  
  
  
Disclaimer: I hold nothing against Ms. Rowling. All of the characters (or at least most of them) featured in this fan fiction are owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. And other people, whoever they are. If you wish to know who those other people are, go read someone else's disclaimer and they'll tell you. Do not sue me. I have no money and if you did sue, you would lose more money than I would. So ha.  
  
Summary: On the eve of Christmas, the Granger family was attacked for unknown reasons and Hermione Granger lost her memory due to mental and physical trauma. The Grangers soon left England to America for safety and sanctuary. Hermione Granger has forgotten all of memories of her time in Hogwarts and the people she met there as well as the knowledge that magic exists. Nearly a decade later, a guilt ridden stranger from her past will reappear before her to remind her who she was along with a key to unlocking the missing seven years hidden deep in her mind.  
  
Title: Amnesiac  
  
Chapter One: Caller  
  
Langley, Virginia USA  
  
Central Intelligence Agency Headquarters  
  
Doctor Hermione Granger flipped through the Triad file, codenamed HTR-18501A, frowned over terms made by previous profilers and skimmed through the list of head leaders in the New York City branch. All of which had been profiled based on Triad actions directed from them. As she fingered through the photographs of punishments the Triads doled out like candy, Hermione brought up the words she first thought of when she started profiling terrorist and crime syndicate organizations. Greed and power, the main motives for humans to kill and torture other humans. The prospect of favors from the higher men and money from bribes drove these people to do the most violent and selfish things.   
  
Absolute loyalty. Brotherhood. Betrayal. All repeating. Only very few can stay loyal for long in any crime syndicate or terrorist ring. Bribes were as common as rats. Those who did join the Triads were often lost, wanting a place to belong to, to have someone tell you what to do. Others joined for the money, power and women, in that order. Drugs played a powerful part as well. Hermione snapped the file shut and tucked it away in a file cabinet with locks. Looking at the ugly way so many humans chose to live could make her sick sometimes. And feel pity for those who wanted out, but not without risking their lives.   
  
"Hey, Granger." A man called out from leaning casually at her doorway. Damn you, Frank. Damn you. Please not today. Just not today, Hermione thought, gritting her teeth and clenching her eyes shut, willing that he was a sick figment of her imagination due to the lack of coffee in her system.  
  
"How long you been here? Since ten?" No such luck. After silently damning Frank Cullen to hell and back and counting to ten, Hermione fixed a smile on her face that would have frightened a five year-old away and turned to Frank.  
  
"Hello Frank. What brings you to my office?" Don't you dare say it was my stunning beauty.  
  
"Oh, just the smell of that perfume of yours, knowing that it is distinctly you." A normal woman who didn't know Frank would have been flattered. But Hermione Granger was not normal, at least she liked to think she wasn't, and she knew Frank Cullen. "Hey, how about dinner to that new show in town?"   
  
The last time she had agreed to dinner and a show with him, she had spent three hours being bored to death, though she had tried to appreciate the show, and Frank had tried to talk her to bed which she had narrowly escaped. She didn't care for a repeat of that night.  
  
"That's very nice of you to think of me, Frank." She noticed he had done the trick with loosening his tie and unbuttoning the first few buttons on his shirt and mussing his hair to look more enticing. His hand was set up far against her door frame, making him seem taller. All of these efforts were wasted by the "Hey, I'm interested, lucky you" expression on his face. "I've got another appointment tonight." Not really an appointment, but she lied shamelessly only if it meant avoiding him.  
  
"Well, then how about another night, say Tuesday-" At that moment, thankfully, her laptop bleeped out the "You've Got Mail" message along with the theme from Jaws that she had set at a weak moment. Quickly opening her email before Frank could recover, Hermione skimmed through the message.  
  
To: Hermione Granger  
  
From: hottygirl666  
  
Subject: What's up, doc?  
  
Hey Hermy! I know that nickname annoys hell and shit out of ya, but I only do it 'cause I luv ya. You can kill me at the July 4th party. What've ya been doin' that you've forgotten to call your own lonely cousin, huh? Catchin' more bad guys, checking out the hot agents over there in the CIA? Hell, I am soooo jealous of you. Damn, those agents are built. Remember when we were in that gym filled with guys and it turned out that the gym was CIA owned for field agents? HOLY SHIT, I'M GETTING ALL HOT AND BOTHERED JUST THINKING ABOUT IT. And you, you are so unaware of yourself, its not even funny. Half of those guys in there were staring at you while you're doin' all that karate shit. Now that I think of it, I hate you now. Anyway, we're going to have to meet somewhere so I can fix your hair again. A girl who don't take care of herself is a girl who don't know she's a girl. Or whatever the hell it is. CYA!  
  
XXXOOO ;)  
  
Trish :*0  
  
P.S.- Oh, and what the hell is UP with that Frank dude?   
  
P.P.S.- Girl, you seriously need to get laid. Just in case you haven't noticed.  
  
At the mention of Trish, Hermione automatically saw a college student of twenty years endowed with a lush body and generous bosom. Trish had also been gifted with an easy and friendly way with people as well as an obsession with cosmetics and hair dyeing products. Rereading the last two lines, Hermione could only laugh at the irony of it. Clearing her throat to hide her laughter, Hermione glanced at her watch. 2:18 p.m. The clinic would be expecting her at 3:15, but she could go a little early.   
  
"So what about-"  
  
"Oh, sorry, Frank, but I just got an email from Trish, you know, my cousin. Says she needs to talk to me anytime soon this week and- well would you look at the time! Gotta go, Frank. Bye!"   
  
Almost dashing out of her office, Hermione clutched her laptop and briefcase to her chest and ran into the elevator, leaving Frank in shock again. Once she was safely inside the elevator, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully, she could avoid him for the next few days. Righting herself quickly before the elevator reached the main floor, Hermione Granger was seen striding calmly through the lobby of the Central Intelligence Agency's Headquarters and slipping into a small spiffy BMW convertible.   
  
Once inside the cool atmosphere of her car, Hermione turned the radio to a rock station and zoomed out of the parking lot at a speed that the local authorities would have frowned rather severely upon. Not actually caring about the speed limits, Hermione happily hummed in tune with Metallica and wove through the afternoon traffic that would have had a pro race car driver nodding in approval. Soon, Hermione stopped at the clinic where she treated mental patients free of charge.   
  
The cool air coming from the clinic air conditioner was a far cry from the sweltering heat of June. Checking her watch again, Hermione greeted the receptionist, Mary, a young newlywed and mother.  
  
"Oh, hello, Hermione. You're a bit early today, aren't you?" Mary said, looking at the clock on the white plaster wall.  
  
"Yes. Sooner the better. More time with patients. How's Matt? He'll be six months next week, won't he?"  
  
"Yes," Mary replied, glowing and happy that Hermione had remembered. "Six months on the dot on Thursday! Oh, it seems such a long time ago when he was still inside me. I'm starting to teach him how to talk."  
  
"That's wonderful. Give him a kiss for me to the little champ. By the way, has the Monroe's been in yet?"   
  
"Oh, I nearly forgot! Yes, they came in a little while ago before you did. They're waiting for you in your office."  
  
"Thanks, Mary. Take care." Hermione was already striding away when Mary answered.  
  
"You too." Mary watched Hermione walk, admiring her wardrobe and figure. God only knew how that woman could maintain such a willowy body as well as juggle a stressful career. It was common knowledge among all that Hermione had no lovers or boyfriends when she attracted men to her like a bee to a hive. Hermione Granger was attractive, some may consider her even beautiful, what with those killer cheekbones and naturally arched eyebrows. Tall, she was, near 5'10 without heels at a guess and long colorful brown hair tied back more for convenience in the practical doctor's mind than vanity. Mary sighed in envy. And God only knew why Hermione Granger was so unaware of herself.  
  
Unaware of Mary's thoughts, Hermione took the elevator up and shifted her mind back to the Monroe patient, Carrie Monroe. As always, she felt a weight come down on her heart as she thought of Carrie. A sixteen year old girl shouldn't be clinically depressed, but be out over a friend's house, giggling over boys and the new Cosmopolitan magazines, not attempting suicide two months ago. It could only be a miracle her mother found her before Carrie would have ended up in residence of a morgue. They had started counseling and therapy immediately after the incident, asking for the best doctors and therapists available. And of course, Dr. Hermione Granger was brought up to the subject.  
  
Stepping out of the elevator when it reached her floor, Hermione recalled that the mother had been reluctant about doctors. In fact, both Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Monroe hadn't liked the idea of their daughter going to a shrink. Both were people who liked keeping up appearances and having their daughter going to a 'mind doctor' as if she was mentally unstable didn't seem to meet their standards as socially acceptable. Idiots.  
  
Opening the door of her office, Hermione saw that indeed, they were all there. Both parents had pained looks on their faces and Carrie was sitting in the chair, hands in lap and eyes on shoes. Her hair was tied back, doubtless by her mother. Appearances again. Always keeping up appearances.   
  
"Good afternoon. I'm glad to see we're all here together. Hello, Carrie."  
  
"Hi," was the soft answer. Hermione noted that the parents looked even more pained now.  
  
She could feel the beginning of a headache sneaking up on her. Setting her laptop and briefcase on the floor by her desk, she took out Carrie's file from the file cabinet by the wall. Placing it on her desk, Hermione took out her glasses, new, and perched them on her the bridge of her nose.   
  
The silence in the room was near deafening.  
  
"So how are we today?"  
  
One hour later  
  
It was a disaster. The weekly family meeting session was a disaster. There was no other word for it. Hermione wished desperately for aspirin, anything to prevent the headache that was soon going to turn into a migraine. Rubbing the tips of her fingers to her temples fiercely, she replayed the entire episode. They had been doing fine until the mother started asking about how much longer until their daughter would be free of counseling. Carrie had done pretty much nothing. Quiet, as always. Uncaring of what happened in the world around her. The father had started an argument with the mother and the entire harmony of the meeting just collapsed around her ears.   
  
The headache got worse.  
  
And cruelly, the phone started to ring. Please, God Almighty, please. Just go away. Far away. Don't call me. Not right now… Whoever the hell it is, GO AWAY. But whoever was calling refused to give up. After what seemed like the fifteenth ring, Hermione sighed miserably and picked up the phone.   
  
"Hello, Dr. Granger speaking."  
  
There was a pause.   
  
"Hello? Anyone there?" She heard a throat clear.  
  
"This is Dr. Hermione Granger speaking?" The voice was male, deep and arrogant yet unfamiliar… yet, she was sure she had heard it before. Something in the back of her mind moved, trying to bring back the memory.  
  
"Yes, this is Dr. Hermione Granger. How can I help you?"  
  
"I'd like to ask you a few questions, doctor. I was hoping you would oblige me." His voice had an English hint, faint but it was there.   
  
"All right, then. Go ahead."  
  
"How do you identify the words 'mentally ill', doctor?" At that, Hermione stiffened.  
  
"That term is highly theoretical. It is only meant to generalize a certain group that can or can not coexist with other people, all depending on each of their own condition. What purpose does it serve you to know this?"  
  
"That I will not answer. Enlighten me. What do you consider insanity to be?"  
  
"Insanity is a legal term. Like mentally ill, it only generalizes a certain group of people." She heard him laugh softly. "So even you can't draw the line between sanity and insanity. Each one of us must draw that line for our own boundaries. No one can judge you only yourself."  
  
"May I ask who this is?" She felt him hesitate before he answered.  
  
"You once knew me as Draco Malfoy." The line clicked off, dead. Hermione didn't hear it though; there was a roaring in her ears, in her head as scenes, pictures, memories all flitted across her. The phone slipped through her nerveless finders and crashed on to the floor and she still didn't hear it as the roaring became louder and louder. Hermione jerked her hands to her eyes and head, covering them as if to defend herself from the onslaught of unknown memories.   
  
And deep within herself, she saw a young man turning around to face her. His platinum blond hair swept back to show his pale face. His eyes were stormy grey, cold, barren and merciless, fixed hers. Compelling eyes. Piercing, as if they could see into her thoughts, her heart, her soul. His mouth twisted into a sneer and deep inside her mind, she knew his name was Draco Malfoy. 


	2. Guilt or Road Rage

A/N: Same shit. Oh, I know that Harvard University was founded after the Salem witch trials. Just pretend that it was founded before the witch trials. The beginning of this chapter is a little boring as well as the middle. But the ending is good. Really good. I certainly got a kick out of writing it.  
  
Rating: Hmm… There's a lot of swearing in this chap (in the end), so might as well make it an 'R'.  
  
Disclaimer: If you want one, go back to chapter one.  
  
Title: Amnesiac  
  
Chapter Two: Guilt (or 'Road Rage')  
  
Hogwarts Castle, Scotland  
  
Draco strode purposefully through the long winding corridors of Hogwarts, stopping only to the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's Office. He noted that several of the portraits he had passed looked at him curiously.   
  
"Blood lollipop," he said to the gargoyle and it leapt aside to allow him entry.  
  
"Not a particular favorite sweet of mine, though at least the vampires favor it." Draco started, turned. Albus Dumbledore stood just behind him, smiling. "Hello, Draco. Come inside. I believe you'll be wanting some privacy." Draco followed him wordlessly, entering the magnificent room that hadn't changed since the last time he had been there. Fawkes, the phoenix, was sleeping on his perch, head tucked under wing. The portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses looked on, some greeting him.  
  
Dumbledore swept past the enchantment laden desk and sat at the chair behind it, gesturing for Draco to do the same with the other chair standing nearby. He inclined his head, politely refusing. Instead, he began to pace.  
  
"So, Draco. What brings you back to Hogwarts?" He didn't answer immediately, just continued pacing until Dumbledore cleared his throat. Draco looked up and suddenly brought his hands to his head, rubbing it gently before shoving them through his hair.  
  
"How is Miss Granger, Draco?" Draco laughed. "You know me entirely too well, Professor." Dumbledore chuckled.  
  
"It took quite a bit of time." Draco quickly sobered. Looked at Dumbledore.  
  
"She's well."  
  
"You've read the reports from the American Ministry of Magic?"  
  
"Yes. Impressive and thorough, as always. Even the wizarding world knows Harvard. After all, it did start out as a school for wizards before those Puritan bigots started the witch trials."   
  
"Yes. A true pity that it was forced to change into a muggle's university." There was silence for a moment.  
  
"She's a Healer. Doctor. Doctor for people who have lost control of their minds. Graduated from Harvard with honors and magna cum laude. Fifth degree black belt probably from her parents' insistence."  
  
"She is gifted. The moment she arrived here, many already recognized her for what she was." Draco's eyes iced over. "I don't suppose many of those recognized that she was powerful enough to become a threat to Lord Voldemort in her seventh year?"   
  
Dumbledore sighed.  
  
"I did feel she was strong in her magical ability, by far stronger than any of the other students. Even Harry. Ahead of her class and her time. Already trying to conceive a potion to cure lycanthropy, more, I suspect, for Remus Lupin. Brilliant. I believe she is the only person as well as student that ever gained any remnant of respect from Severus Snape."  
  
"She was that close to completing the potion?"  
  
"Very close." Draco looked away. "If I had done something, she'd have already finished that potion and become as famous as you."  
  
"Do not burden the blame, Draco. There was nothing you could have done to stop the attack. If you had tried, you would have been in greater danger than Hermione." Draco closed his eyes and opened them again. "I know. But I still feel like a bloody fucking coward for not trying."  
  
Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Why did you contact her, Draco?" Draco rubbed his hands against his eyes. "I don't know. Maybe I've gone bloody fricking mad. No," Draco stopped to let out a short bark of laughter. "Insanity is the legal term and 'mad' probably is the same. In her opinion at least."   
  
"Is it guilt, then? That you know living the life of a witch is far easier and long living than a muggle's?" Draco paused. "I actually really don't know. You know that she has no idea of what happened between the ages of eleven to seventeen. She has absolutely no idea of those missing years. What if she has children and they ask of what happened in her childhood? She won't know. She won't know about anything that happened. Its only right that she knows. Knows who she was. Is. Even if she hates me or whatever, I want her to know." Dumbledore looked at him, bemused.  
  
"Draco, you are turning quite unlike what many of us expected. Even your father couldn't taint you."   
  
"That man isn't my father. He's a monster that preyed on innocents. He can rot in hell or Azkaban, I don't care. He is not my father."   
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Langley, Virginia  
  
  
  
Hermione laid her head on her desk. Her head was still pounding. Her face was pale, she knew. After sitting there for three hours trying to sort out each of the memories that had come out of nowhere to attack her. As she did so, she kept chanting to herself: "I am not going mad, I am not going mad, I am not going mad…." And then she laughed at herself.  
  
I'm the doctor, she thought. I'm the one who's supposed to helping others, not be a victim myself. Or patient. She brought her hand up to rub at her forehead. The gesture did little to relieve the ache. A look at her watch told her it was late. Rising slowly, Hermione gathered up her briefcase and laptop and exited the room.   
  
Seated safely in her car, Hermione drove fast and dangerously, trying to take her mind off what had happened that afternoon. Impossible. How can I ignore these…memories if I don't even know what they mean? Already, she decided to have a nice long talk with her parents.   
  
Parking her car in the apartment garage, she took the elevator up to the fifth floor. Hermione leaned against the elevator sidewall, her hand gripping the rail.   
  
"Hey! Hold that for me!" Hermione jerked her head up and automatically pushed the open door button on the wall. A man, dark hair and blue eyes, dashed across the garage, jacket flapping and tie blown over his shoulder. Alex, Hermione recognized. Alex Richter, the young executive for an advertising firm that lived three doors down from her own apartment. He stepped into the elevator, catching his breath and grinning gratefully at her.  
  
"Thanks."   
  
"Your welcome." The elevator doors slid shut soundlessly. Alex glanced at her. Hermione had moved her gaze to the opposite corner of the elevator. And he kept on hoping. Ever since he had met her on the day he moved in and she, the nice neighbor, had come over to greet him, he had thought her beautiful. Almost serene, like an angel, with her clam expression despite much talk among the other neighbors about Hermione's workaholic attitude. Never frazzled or out of place. Though it was a little surprise that she profiled criminals. Even the human ugliness of that didn't seem to bother her though he knew it sometimes did.  
  
Shifting, Alex could breath in her scent of wildflowers. He grinned sheepishly to himself. Hermione was lady, he thought. Another glance. A lady with an excellent figure and face and sharp mind. Both of them waved good byes to each other when they stepped out, Hermione without another look at Alex, Alex giving in to temptation and letting his gaze linger after her.   
  
Hermione entered her apartment, habitually tossing her brief case to the sofa in front of the T.V. and laptop on the kitchen table. Huffing out a breath, Hermione headed toward her bathroom, and turned the water on in the bathtub. Going back to her living room, she shut on the small stereo. Rock wouldn't work right now, Hermione thought. Definitely not. Hermione went back to the bathroom, her movements more graceful as her mind was soothed by the majestic sounds of Mozart. Slipping out of her clothes and into the tub, Hermione laid her head on the edge, her body relaxing. The hot water warmed her limbs, the music floating gently in the air.   
  
If I fall asleep in the bathtub, I'll drown, Hermione thought groggily. Hermione reached for the soap and lathered it over herself slowly, her movements more sluggish than graceful. The water lulled her… and the phone rang. Gritting her teeth, Hermione damned the caller, told him/her to do things she would never say out loud, and stepped out of the tub. Wrapping a towel around her, Hermione dashed to the phone, yanking it off the cradle and to her ear.  
  
"Whoever this is, you can go screw yourself and then go to hell and screw the devil as well for all I care because-"  
  
"What crawled up your ass?" Hermione blinked. "Trish?"  
  
"No, its Danny Glover. I wanted to know if you could date me and then we could make sweet sweet love-"  
  
"Okay, that's enough Trish." Trish laughed. "Did you get my email?"  
  
"Yeah. Since when do you judge when I need to get laid, hmm?" Trish laughed again. The phone crackled a bit from the long distance call. Trish was probably still in Boston.  
  
"I'm your favorite cousin, remember? I know everything about you, same with you and me."  
  
"A comforting thought. I just love it when somebody knows all of my secrets. Like the time when I lost my virginity." Trish snorted.   
  
"That guy was an ice bastard. Real stiff too. Remember when you couldn't shake him off, we pretended to be lesbians to scare him away?"  
  
"Thank God we did it on the phone. I really wouldn't have wanted to have kissed you like you were my lover."  
  
"Yeah. That's gross. And illegal. Incest is illegal, right?"  
  
"In some states. So why'd you call?" Hermione could almost feel Trish shrug. "No reason. Just felt like talking to someone." Hermione shifted, leaning her shoulder against the wall to both support and brace herself.  
  
"What happened?" Trish sighed. "Bryan dumped me fifteen minutes ago."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Hermione rubbed her head again. The girl talk with Trish had been full of accusations of what a bastard Bryan was and how Trish could go and kick his ass in front of his co-workers to humiliate him. Of course, Trish was going to pick the best fantasy and then do it. Hermione only hoped Trish would be a little more delicate this time. The last time a lover had cheated on Trish, she had viciously sworn at him in public and then kicked him in the groin, adding in a few punches that Hermione had taught for the sole purpose of self-defense. One of the bystanders had called 911 and Trish had been held in for assault by the local authorities. Hermione had bailed her out. Then she had delivered an ear blistering lecture about self-control and the proper use of tae kwon do and jujitsu.  
  
Jesus, Hermione thought again, the corners of her lips lifting a bit at the memory. Of course, Trish hadn't listened a word to her lecture. Only said that he had deserved it. Hermione could only hope that something like this wouldn't happen to her.  
  
Going back to the tub, Hermione discovered that the water was already cold. Sighing in disappointment, Hermione drained it and dressed in loose pants and shirt, her standard pajamas. Soon, she was settled on her sofa, enjoying iced tea and viewing the news channel. Hermione was idly flipping through a magazine before a story caught her eye.  
  
"Just in, yesterday, in London, England, a small explosion that seemed to have been generated by a leaking propane tank outside a small house. The cause of the ignited fire is still being investigated. The explosion left one dead and seven others injured. Witnesses nearby claims that three men, two dressed in dark matching clothes or dark robes and another in jeans and white shirt with pale blonde hair and light complexion. They had supposedly started arguing and yelling violently, all drawing a sort of sticks at each other. The two men seemed to have ganged up against the other man and then the explosion occurred. Strangely enough, when witnesses were questioned again, they seemed to have no memory of the incident. The three men also seemed to have disappeared and notices have been put out. Now back to you, Jon."  
  
Hermione sat back. An explosion of unknown cause? Propane just didn't ignite itself. This was something interesting. And sad. One dead. She felt the first stirrings of pity and clicked the T.V. off. Men drawing sticks at each other… Why did that seem familiar? Sticks… yelling…wands. They weren't sticks. They were wands. Where had that come from? Hermione wondered As if. Wands were used for spells and magic and she certainly knew that magic didn't exist. Only in fairy tales.   
  
As she walked to her bedroom and crawled into bed, a nagging thought stayed with her.  
  
Magic didn't exist.   
  
Right?  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
July Fourth  
  
Westchester County, New York  
  
"Trish, just shut up."  
  
"Oh, come on, Hermy. Sing along. It wouldn't hurt to have a little fun."  
  
"Not when it's to Enrique Inglesias." Hermione rolled her eyes to prove her point as Enrique wailed about love lost.  
  
"Why not? He is so hot-"  
  
"He is so much like a man whore, I can't stand it. Isn't he engaged to that Russian? No, don't start singing. Not when I'm driving."  
  
"Russian? Oh, Anna Kournikova, you mean."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
"I don't know. Probably, what with that music video he did. 'Escape'."  
  
"Ugh. Can't he sing anything decent?" Alex smiled as Hermione and Trish continued arguing about Enrique. He had been invited to the Grangers' annual July Fourth celebration, a habit they had started only three years after they moved to the States. So far, the last several hours in the car with Hermione, all the way from Virginia to Boston to New York had been both a delight and educational experience. He never knew a woman could drink so much coffee. Or drive so recklessly. Or smell so great. He was drawn back to the present to Hermione's voice.  
  
"Enrique sucks. Period."   
  
"No, he does not-" Hermione held up a finger. "Nope. Don't try to convince me. He sucks. That's it. I don't give a damn about what you think. I don't like him. Now, its my turn to pick the next CD." At a stop light, Hermione riffled through Trish's CD collection. "Oh my God. What do you listen to? Kylie Minogue? No. N*Sync? Eww…"  
  
"Hey, that's good shit."  
  
"No, it isn't. Its pure trash. How old are you? This is like for fourteen year old teenagers with no taste. Incubus? Who are they? Here, let's just try it." Hermione popped in the CD and perked up when she heard the guitars. "Hey, this is good. Don't touch. We are listening to this until we get to my parents'."  
  
"But that's another hour!"  
  
"Suck it up, soldier. I'm not in a great mood." And they sat in silence, listening to Incubus and Hermione swear at New York drivers in general.   
  
"Goddamn idiots. A-hole just tried to cut me. Why the hell is that van tail gating me? Isn't that illegal? Stupid morons with their heads stuck up their butts. Hey!" Hermione slammed on the brakes, throwing Trish forward into the back of the driver's seat and Alex against the seat belt. The SUV in the other lane beside Hermione had cut in front of her just as Hermione had stepped on the accelerator, bumping the side of the SUV passenger door. Both drivers stopped and slammed out of their cars.   
  
"You asshole! You cut in front of me!" The SUV driver was dark haired with glasses. He glowered at her. "That was a perfectly legal move and you're the one that just decides to hit me! If you hadn't-"  
  
"Hell, if you hadn't tried that at all and stayed on the other frickin' lane, this wouldn't have happened! I was even under the goddamn speed limit. What the hell-" Trish watched the argument escalate and even Hermione looked ready to unleash a roundhouse kick. Awesome, Trish thought. Always wanted to see one of those in real life. But Hermione managed to restrain herself by pulling at her own hair. Trish took a moment to treat herself with a small look at Alex. She had always had a crush on him ever since she saw him in Hermione's apartment on a visit. God, Trish thought. Hermione, you are so lucky as well as blind.  
  
Alex watched the verbal duel with wide eyes. How he ever thought Hermione was nice and mild mannered, he didn't know. He watched Hermione snarl at the man and was glad he wasn't the other driver.  
  
"Hey, break it up, break it up." A uniformed police officer with a handlebar moustache stepped between them, shooting them both warning glances to keep silent. "Do any of you have passengers in your car?"  
  
"Yeah," Hermione said, still glaring at the other driver. "My cousin and a friend. They both saw the whole thing. You can question them." Hermione waved absently to Trish,. Trish stepped forward. "Yeah, I saw the entire thing." Trish steadily explained everything, even admitted that Hermione had just barely been under the New York State speed limit before the hit. The policeman, Officer Kessle, nodded and took notes, asking both Hermione and the other driver their sides of the story.  
  
"Alright. It seems that the lady here was doing fine before you tired to cut her, sir." The officer held up his hand before the other driver could argue. "This is an accident. I can file an accident report and see that you both exchange insurance papers with names and car license. Here," Kessle handed both drivers piece of paper to write the appropriate information. Both of them exchanged papers without looking at the other's.  
  
"And here is the accident report. Both of you have a nice day and Happy July Fourth." Kessle strode back to the police car and drove off. Hermione stomped back to her car and into the driver's seat. Slammed on the accelerator and shot another venomous look at the other driver. He glared back.  
  
Silence reigned in the small car.  
  
"First one to say anything will have their arms ripped out of the sockets and be beaten to bloody death with them."  
  
A/N: How was that? Yeah, I know, Hermione was very off at that last part. But hey, spend half the day in the car does that to ya. I found that last part very fun to write. 


	3. July Fourth

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the last chapter. Here's the new one, enjoy!  
  
Rating:  
  
Disclaimer: You should know by now whom Harry Potter belongs to.  
  
Title: Amnesiac  
  
Chapter Three: July Fourth  
  
Hogwarts Castle, Scotland  
  
Draco sat on a smooth rock, watching the lake octopus lazily stretch its tentacles. The weather was fair and clear, the perfect kind for a good Quidditch match. And God, he wanted one. Wanted to ride in the air, facing off an opponent just as determined as he was to get the snitch first. Wanted to leave the ground, leave all of his thoughts and memories behind and to have blessed nothingness. Only to live the moment.  
  
Draco sat up and leaned against the tree by the rock. And remembered. It all came back in fragments, but only because he knew that he didn't want to remember back as if it were a film. Walking down the street. Brooding. Stopped by men he knew… men who knew his father. The sun beating on his head and back. The sweat forming on his body.  
  
Then… Screams and yells as both he and the Death Eaters faced off. An explosion. Fire everywhere and sirens. Sirens from the muggle police racing toward them. Flashing lights and people scrambling away. Some were burned. And one was dead.  
  
It ended.  
  
Draco pressed the heel of his hand to his head, willing it stop. Hermione. Hermione had no idea who she was. She had no idea. He remembered that her left hand been injured, a broken bone or two, concussion. Cuts and bruises. And worse of all was when her mind was wiped clean. No memory of her life whatsoever. Amnesia. Even the most powerful of magic could not bring back what her mind refused to remember. Many had considered it a tragedy to lose someone that way. To Draco, it was starting over. It had been like starting over for Hermione as well.   
  
But she had no say whether she wanted the life of a brilliant witch or a brilliant muggle. She had no choice. I can give her a choice, Draco thought, brows furrowing. I can give her a choice. Give her back what's hers. Give her back what my father stole away.  
  
I've already started.  
  
Draco got up, stretched his body. And went to the nearest telephone to book the fastest ticket to Virginia via muggle airplane. It really wasn't possible to Apparate across the Atlantic.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Westchester County, New York  
  
Hermione pulled into her parents' driveway, forgetting at once all about the accident on the freeway. Her parents' lovely Georgian house was a two-story affair, painted a light blue and was enhanced with the newly manicured front lawn. Flowerbeds blossomed with life and beauty in the heat of July and under the care of Katherine Granger.   
  
She saw smoke coming from behind the house and silently smiled to herself. It was obviously her father's turn to cook. Sliding out of the car, Hermione could hear the beat of music from a portable stereo and the chatter of friends and family coming from the shaded backyard. Hermione quickly ran around the house and saw her father struggling with the barbeque and her mother sitting serenely at a wooden patio chair, sipping lemonade. People, all ages and sizes surrounded them both.  
  
"Dad!" Richard Granger turned and his eyes lit up as he spotted his only daughter sprinting toward him in jeans and blouse, her hair flying behind her. She flew into his arms and hugged him tightly. "There's my little girl." Hermione pulled away and looked at him, taking in the silver in his brown hair and the crow's feet at the sides of his eyes as well as the friendly expression that was now full of love. "Getting a bit old now, Dad?" Hermione laughed, touching his hair. He grinned. "Is that a way to talk to your own father? You did give me some of those white hairs."  
  
"Indeed. I believe I did as I well." Hermione turned at her mother's voice and ran into her arms, the same as she did with her father. "Mum." Katherine looked over her daughter's shoulder to her husband's eyes, smiling. "Oh dear, you do grow fast, don't you?" Hermione grinned. Her mother had said the same thing every year ever since she moved to Virginia. She topped her mother by three inches, her height gained from her father's side of the family. Hermione had also gotten her brown hair and eyes from her father, though her eyebrows and nose were from her mother.   
  
"Did you bring your neighbor with you? Alex, I believe his name was?"   
  
"Yes, mother, I brought him. Was there a specific reason why you wanted him here?" Hermione asked suspiciously. Her mother had been playing the matchmaker ever since Hermione had gotten out of college.  
  
"Well, he is a nice boy. And I quite like him. Charming, don't you think, dear?" Katherine said, shooting her husband a look.   
  
"Of course. Very nice. Hmm. I think I'll go back to the barbeque. Leave you women alone to talk about…things." Hermione raised her eyebrow as her father quickly went back to burning hotdogs. "He hates cooking," Hermione said. Katherine chuckled. "Yes, he does. Forever burning and forgetting things on the stove. The only things relating to obtaining food that he knows of is sticking it in the microwave or ordering take out." She shook her head. "Very pitiful sometimes."  
  
"Hmm. That's what I do." Katherine looked at Hermione, bemused. "And that is the only thing I regret having you inherited from your father. Everything else is lovely. Ah, is Tricia here?"   
  
"Oh, she hates when people call her that. Trish, yes she's here. I picked her up at Boston."  
  
"Oh… I don't quite see her here…"  
  
"She's the one with the purple and blond hair."  
  
"Changed her hair again?"  
  
"Yes." And standing rather close to Alex, Hermione noted. She was introducing him to friends and other relatives, but standing close enough to look possessive. Was Trish interested in Alex? Hermione had no idea how that would work out. The both of them were so different. Alex was cool and polite, but friendly. Trish was outgoing, casually rude most of the time and took lovers as often as changing shoes, though she did try to make some of them more serious, hence the Bryan disaster. Hermione shook her head. It was better if she didn't think about relationships since she didn't have much luck in that area.  
  
"Hey, Mum, I'm just going to go get a hotdog and attempt to eat it-"  
  
"Even my daughter turns on me," her father muttered. Hermione laughed. "I have faith in you, Dad." Hermione snagged a hotdog from one of the picnic tables and did indeed try valiantly to eat it. The meat was burned and hard and Hermione voiced this to her father. "Why thank you, my dear daughter. Now go away and leave me here alone to sulk with the hotdogs."  
  
And thus, Hermione spent the next five hours talking, laughing and socializing with old friends and relatives that she hadn't seen since Christmas and New Years.   
  
"Aunt Hermy." Hermione felt a tug on the back of her blouse and turned. There stood a seven-year-old girl, the product of her cousin's marriage. "Hello there."  
  
The child stood there a bit nervously, obviously intimidated by her height. Hermione bent down on to her haunches and stared into her blue eyes. "Your name's Lauren, isn't it?" Hermione already knew her name.   
  
"Uh-huh." Lauren had a pair of blond pigtails draping her thin shoulders, having escaped the baby fat stage of childhood rather quickly. She's going to be beautiful when she grows up, Hermione thought, feeling pride settle in. The boys in the neighborhood are all going fall in love with her, once she hits puberty. "Are you having fun?" Lauren looked around the party.  
  
"Not really", was her soft answer.  
  
"Why not?" Lauren thought seemed to think before she answered. "Everybody's a grown up. I have nobody to play with." Hermione smiled. "Here." Hermione offered Lauren a hand. "We can go inside the house and see what we can do together."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"So how was it?" Hermione laid down on the couch in the living room, flinging an arm on to her eyes. "Very exhausting."  
  
"You enjoyed seeing everyone?"  
  
"I forgot why I was so happy to have moved to Virginia. Oh yes. So that everybody in the neighborhood wouldn't try and match me up with their son or brother or cousin…"  
  
"Well, nobody's ever seen you in a relationship. Come to think of it, neither have I."  
  
"Don't remind me, mother. It gives me a feeling of inadequacy. This reminds me that I can't even stay in a relationship for very long makes me feel that I've disappointed a lot of people. I mean, how am I going to get married?" Hermione heard a sigh from her mother. "It wouldn't matter to me if you never have a boyfriend or lover. As long as you're happy, I'm content." A pause. "You work too hard." Hermione sat up. "No, I don't."  
  
"Yes, you do, dear. Nobody knows a person better than their mother."  
  
"I do not work too hard."  
  
"Then why does Alex tell me that he's noticed you come home very late? Or the bags under your eyes?" Hermione sighed, defeated. It was no use arguing with her own mother. "Alright. Maybe I do overwork." Katherine eyed Hermione. "Not 'maybe'. You do overwork."  
  
"Okay. I'll cut back on the work."  
  
"  
  
That's good. You better. You're staying over tonight?"  
  
"Yeah, if that's alright with you. I'll just use my old room. Trish can sleep in my room since Alex is staying over too."  
  
"Yes, that sounds good. I've already cleaned out the dust. Do you need any extra clothes?"  
  
"No. I've brought a few spares over. I'll be going to shower now. Lauren's a wonder," Hermione said, a smile tugging at her lips.   
  
"Ah, you saw little Lauren today?"   
  
"Yeah. She's going to break hearts when she grows up." Her mother smiled back.  
  
"Yes. She will."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Today was fun. Didn't you have fun?" Trish asked, flipping through a Cosmopolitan magazine. Hermione typed away on her laptop, the keys clicking softly.  
  
"Hellooooo…."  
  
"Quiet." Trish rolled her eyes at Hermione's back.  
  
"Don't roll your eyes at me." Trish hissed. She's good, Trish thought, secretly impressed.  
  
"Don't you ever take a break, girl?"  
  
"Considering that you really won't make any intelligent conversation with me at this moment, no."  
  
"Well, thanks so much. You make me feel so great. Just like a delinquent."  
  
"Consider it based on your thing for Enrique." Hermione continued to type away on the laptop.  
  
"Why do you always pick on him? I mean, he's hot, he can sing-"  
  
"I don't care. Go to sleep. We're leaving early tomorrow."  
  
"Whatever you say, Hermy." Trish grinned when Hermione started pounding the keys.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Have you packed everything, dear? Water, snacks? After it is a long drive back," Katherine asked, her eyes filled with motherly worry as Hermione dragged a bleary-eyed Trish to the car. Alex trailed behind, silently worshipping the cup of coffee between his hands. Hermione would have given anything to have some coffee. Anything.  
  
"Yes, mom. We have everything. Trish, haul your ass up and get in the car." Trish yawned, missed the door and rapped her head sharply against the edge of the door. The cool morning air at five o'clock a.m. at the Granger residence was filled with ripe curses of the ungodly hour as well as various inanimate objects before the BMW convertible pulled out of the driveway and raced to the highway.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Kennedy Airport, New York  
  
Draco glanced at the clock overhead Customs and sighed. Muggles are so slow, he thought, resigned. He had made sure that he hadn't brought over any suspicious magical objects. His wand was tucked safely inside his duffel bag where he carried everywhere with him. The muggles would most likely dismiss it as a trinket.  
  
Draco sighed again.   
  
Soon, he was seen exiting the airport and hailing a limousine.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
Hermione gripped the steering wheel in defense to Trish's horrible off-key singing. Alex was blissfully asleep. Lucky bastard, Hermione thought sourly. She envied those who could just drop off to sleep wherever they were with a passion. And she closed her eyes briefly as Trish hit a particularly high note. Well, at least I don't have to stop at Boston, Hermione thought. Trish would be staying with her during her summer vacation from the university.   
  
Later, it took another hour for Trish to stop the singing before Hermione jammed into the CD player a rock band. "Hey, don't hit anyone, Hermy. You're driving too fast." For the first time since they left, Hermione laughed. "I've been driving too fast all my life, Trish. Even you should have caught on by now."  
  
"Hey, don't want the next exciting episode of Hermy Granger's life with another car crash."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
Trish laughed.  
  
"Leave me alone, you evil mean person."  
  
"By the way, did you ever find out that guy's name?"  
  
"The guy who drove in front of me? That guy?" Trish rolled her eyes. "Who else?"  
  
"Yeah." Trish waited a beat.  
  
"So?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Oh my God, Herms! Stop the act and just tell me what his name was!"  
  
"Why do you want to know?"  
  
"I don't know. Just tell me." Hermione riffled around for a moment, searching for the piece of paper with the man's name. Finding it under her water bottle, Hermione lifted it to her eyes and read off the name out loud.  
  
"James Pearson. Happy now?" Hermione felt her mind twitch at the name. She had heard of the name before. No, read the name. She knew she had never met the man or she'd have known. Quickly, Hermione dismissed the thought. She'd have time to think about it once she got to Virginia.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Draco stepped out of the Lincoln Town car and asked the driver to wait for him. He nodded at turned back to a newspaper. Draco only stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of the Georgian house with its pretty lace curtained windows and small driveway. He knew she would spend the American July Fourth at her parents'. He hoped she would still be here, staying the day after on the fifth. Walking slowly, as if the air was water, Draco raised his hand to the door and pushed the doorbell, hearing it go ding-dong. And like a dream, the door opened to reveal a pretty woman with red hair and green eyes. She was slim, dressed simply in a white t-shirt and jeans. Hermione's mother, Draco thought.  
  
She raised her brow at the sight of the handsome man standing at her door before she realized who he was. Wordlessly, she gestured him inside. Leading the way, she led him to a spacious living room. Before Draco could open his mouth, she said, "I know who you are. Please, sit down. Would you like tea or coffee?"   
  
Draco found his voice. "No, thank you." She nodded and sat down across him on another couch. "So, Mr. Malfoy, are you here to apologize what happened nine years ago? I'll have you know, I don't blame you for what happened. It was beyond your control," Katherine said, crossing her legs and staring him in the eye. He met the stare. "No, I'm not here to apologize, though I have spent several countless moments regretting that I couldn't stop it. I… I came here to see her," he said softly, knowing she knew what he meant.  
  
She understood. "She isn't here. She left early this morning back to Virginia. She should have gotten back by now," Katherine replied, checking her watch. Draco nodded. "Thank you."  
  
"Draco." For the first time, she used his first name. He stiffened when she touched his hand. "I truly don't blame you for what happened. I spoke to Professor Dumbledore. He explained everything to me." Draco knew the Grangers had met with Dumbledore, knew Dumbledore had urged them not to blame him. "I want Hermione to remember everything. I suppose you could say that I do feel responsible for losing her memories. I want to help her remember."  
  
A/N: Sorry for the long delay in posting this chapter. Not much happened. Sorry. But I'll get to it. Next chapter… READ AND REVIEW FOR GOD'S SAKE AND GIVE ME SOME IDEAS. 


	4. Partners

A/N: To those of you who have noticed that Hermione is OOC, keep in mind that she is no longer much of a Brit since the Grangers got out of England right after the accident. So all I guess you can say is that she is 'Americanized'. I know, everybody thinks Americans are weird. We're loud and rude. That's almost how I want to portray Hermione. Complete opposite of what she was in Hogwarts. Dynamic and outgoing. You get my drift.   
  
And personal thanks to CedricDiggory2, for actually pointing out some mistakes. Why don't people ever actually review about my mistakes? Anyhow, I'd also like to thank other reviewers who have read my story and actually BOTHERED TO REVIEW. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. You guys just make my day better.  
  
Okay now… onto chapter four…  
  
Title: Amnesiac  
  
Chapter Four: Partners   
  
Langley, Virginia  
  
"Are we there yet?" Trish asked for what seemed like the millionth time. Hermione's eye twitched. "In another few minutes."  
  
"That's what you said last time," Trish yawned.   
  
"And that's going to be what I say this time. So shut up."  
  
They rode in silence until Hermione pulled into the apartment garage. Alex woke just as Hermione turned the engine off and gave her a sleepy smile. Trish's heart turned over in her chest. God, he's so cute, Trish thought.  
  
"Okay, everybody get out of my car. I need to sleep. And I have work tonight. So scram." Each of them get out of the car and left for their separate apartments, exchanging good byes and hugs. Hermione eyed Trish. "You don't have to hug me."  
  
Trish grinned. "Sure I do. You're my own cuz. C'mere." Hermione managed to duck away. "If I'm going to be living with you for the next two months, at least spare me that."  
  
Hermione entered her apartment, thinking only of how she was going to spend the next few hours in bed. Trish gave the apartment a glance and said one thing. "Neat freak."  
  
"So? It's nice being organized. Unlike some people I know."  
  
"Disorganization shows character."  
  
"Disorganization causes many sleepless nights brooding over lost work." With those words, Hermione walked to her bedroom and slept like rock in bed.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  
Draco left the airport in Langley, heading first for the nearest hotel. He found one, set in the middle of the city. Inside was cool, the walls decorated with pastel and Impressionist paintings. The woman at the Registration table smiled at him.   
  
"Good afternoon. Do you have a reservation?"  
  
"Oh, no. I'd like a room for one. A presidential or penthouse suite if you please."  
  
"Of course. Please fill out this form please." Draco glanced at the form, quickly filling it in with necessary information. "Do you have a restaurant here?"  
  
'Yes, sir. Right over there." The woman, Desiree it said on her nametag, pointed toward a small restaurant on the other side of the lobby.   
  
"Can you have a bellman carry up my bags? Charge his tip to my bill."  
  
"Right away, sir." Desiree handed him a key card. Draco thanked her and headed straight for the restaurant. The maitre'd, recognizing wealth and class, hurried over to Draco.  
  
"Table for one. Just me. Do you have a smoking section?"  
  
"Oh, yes, of course. Would you prefer a table there?"  
  
"That would fine." The maitre'd signaled to one of the other waiters and spoke rapidly to him. Draco watched absently, idly thinking that muggles seemed to constantly suck up to money. But wizards did that as well so he couldn't really blame them. Draco was quickly showed to a single table in a section that was half-filled with hazy blue smoke. Ordering a lobster in white wine at a ridiculous price, Draco took out a cigarette and lit it, watching it burn the dark tobacco for a moment before drawing it in.  
  
And he wondered what Hermione was doing at that moment.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Trish flipped through a magazine, the T.V. blinking with daytime soap operas and talk shows. Hermione was dressing in her room muttering to herself about damn men who couldn't simply wait for her. Trish rolled her eyes.  
  
"Turn down the T.V., goddamn it!" Hermione yelled, her voice muffled.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because one of my neighbors is probably going to sue me for a public disturbance! The woman has ears like the fifteen cats she owns."  
  
"Okay, okay, don't get all worked up." Trish was looking for the remote control when Hermione walked out carrying her usual laptop and briefcase. A small Louis Vuitton bag was slung over her shoulder.   
  
"I said to turn down the volume."  
  
"Just wait another minute. I'm trying to find the remote." Hermione sighed and turned down the volume herself. "Why do you watch that crap on T.V. anyway?"  
  
Trish stuck her tongue out at her Hermione. "It's not crap."  
  
"Yes, it is. The sole purpose of daytime shows is to turn you into one of those zombies who're glued to the screen."  
  
"Are you saying that I'm a T.V. junkie?"   
  
"Depends on how you look at it. Look, I have to go. I'll be back at around six. In the meantime, go do something."  
  
"Yes, mum. I'll be sure to be back before curfew." Hermione slanted Trish a look designed to degrade. Trish smiled serenely. "And don't bring back any strange men," Hermione said.  
  
"I have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. I overheard my mum talking with your mum about it. Okay, now I'm going to be late. Bye."  
  
"Bye-bye." Trish turned the volume back up again the moment Hermione stepped out. Hermione sighed.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Hermione zipped through afternoon traffic and into the CIA parking lot. She showed the security guards her ID and pass. They let her through with polite hellos. In her office, the answering machine held a message from her superior, Michael Brandor, summoning her to one of the many conference rooms held on the fourth floor. The message had come through only seconds before she came in.  
  
Exiting her office, Hermione took a legal pad and pen and speed walked to the conference room. The room was large with a single table in the center and several chairs by it. Brandor was already standing at one end with another four people seated in the chairs, two of which she knew. Brandor scowled at Hermione. "Where's Cullen?" Hermione felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Frank was involved. Hermione merely shrugged and hoped Frank never showed up. She took a seat by Luke Harting, a handsome middle-aged man with a quiet voice. Frank entered the room, striding in as if he had all the time in the world.   
  
Brandor scowled at him. "You're late, Cullen." Frank shrugged. "Had some business to tie up."  
  
"As I recall, you have been doing absolutely nothing in the past week except cooing on the phone. Phone calls that, as I remind you, are paid by the taxpayer's money. So you better start straighten your ass up pretty soon or you're off this project." Frank paled a bit. Hermione could have kissed Brandor.  
  
"Now that we have all our asses here, I'm doing the introductions. The three people that are with us today are profilers specifically sent by the FBI director what's-his-face."  
  
One of the FBI profilers piped up. "Director Robert Malstrom."  
  
"Whatever. Okay, the reason why we're all here's because of the new Project Redstone. Granger here was already informed of the project. You better got some work done ahead of time, Granger." Hermione nodded.  
  
"Good. The purpose of all you profilers is to predict reactions and moves that are going to be made by leaders in terrorist and crime organizations. We're here with the FBI because we're going to combine both international and national information and assistance. If this project proves successful, it will spread from the U.S. to around the world. When that happens, Interpol will join." Hermione noticed that when Brandor said the project going international, he said when instead of if. Brandor expected the best and nothing less.  
  
Brandor continued, "This project thus so far is top secret and confidential. This is nothing to be told to friends when you're piss faced or feeling lonely. It will stay that way. Each CIA profiler will be partnered with an FBI counter part. You will work with together. I don't give a shit if you don't like each other. This project will work. I'm demanding that it works. For now, I will be your superior. You will report to me for whatever you find or need. I'll tell you your partners now. Alright, Cullen, you're with Sanchez." A tall woman, Hispanic, with black hair and eyes nodded. Frank waved a hand toward her, flirting. Sanchez didn't smile back.  
  
"Harting, you're with Foster." Harting looked toward another woman, this time a petite brunette with cool blue eyes. She looked friendly, giving him a smile of acknowledgement.   
  
"Granger, you're with Pearson." Hermione jerked her head up at the name. The last FBI agent was obviously a man who had not looked up at all during the entire meeting. He looked up now. James Pearson, Hermione thought weakly. James Pearson, driver of the SUV she had crashed into. James Paterson who made progress in the possible origins of Alzheimer's disease. Oh my God, thought Hermione. He recognized her as well. Pearson had black hair was wearing glasses. Just as he had in the accident. Hermione realized for the first time that he had green eyes. Or it could be hazel, she wasn't sure. He recovered first. "We meet again, Dr. Granger."  
  
Brandor looked at them. "You two know each other?"  
  
Hermione found her voice. And said, dryly, "We've met." Brandor only raised a brow before dismissing them with dossiers on leaders and men they were to study.  
  
Pearson met her outside of the door. "You know, I still have that dent on my car."  
  
"Your problem that you tried to cut me."  
  
He actually looked sheepish. "Yeah, I was in a hurry. I was late for a party in New York."  
  
"Strange, so was I."   
  
Pearson chuckled. "July Fourth rage and all that. Listen, it was nice meeting you. You're very well-known around the medical community." Hermione frowned. "Is that so?"  
  
Pearson smiled. "Yeah. Hey, walk with me for a bit. We could talk, you know, get to know each other. We are going to be working together for a while." Hermione couldn't help herself, but she liked him. He had a friendly aura around him, drawing people.   
  
"Why not? How am I so well-known?" Hermione inquired, interested.  
  
"You'd have to be pretty oblivious to not know you're something of a celebrity. You're parents are known and respected members in society, right? Your dad was some actor's dentist."  
  
"Yes, I know."  
  
"So everybody knows your mum and dad. Society member's daughter gets into Ivy League school, goes into CIA. Then that thing you did a few years ago with Mafia was pretty cool since you were the one who pretty much literally brought that guy down. All over the news with a civilian taping you chasing him and doing that karate stuff and-"  
  
"I know." Hermione remembered the chase. She had asked to be where Capoli was going to be taken in. Somehow, he had been informed of the setup and ran just before the agents could move in. She remembered everything from that night clearly.  
  
An explosion. A black sedan racing down the long driveway. She remembered leaping into a dark SUV and chasing the sedan, knowing that the man who had killed innocents for money and power was inside that car. The chase ended when the sedan fishtailed and struck a lamppost and smacked into an outdoor restaurant. Three men came out and took cover from the car, grabbing a hostage. The rage she'd felt scored through her, heating her blood. And she attacked. With a semi automatic Glock, Hermione shot Capoli's bodyguard in the shoulder and slammed the driver into the car. Capoli had been a giant of a man, towering over her with an exotic revolver in his hand.   
  
"Hey, you okay?" Hermione woke up from her reverie and stared at Pearson for a moment before remembering where she was.  
  
"Sorry. I'm fine, thanks."  
  
"Hey, you just looked a little sick for a minute. You want to get started on this project? I don't have an office yet, so we'll have to use yours."  
  
"Oh, fine. This way." Upon entering the office, Pearson grabbed a chair and pulled it over to her desk. "Hey, Hermione-Can I call you Hermione?"  
  
Hermione felt her mind go blank for a moment before responding. "Alright."  
  
"Okay, and you call me James or Jimmy. So we are doing the-"  
  
"Triads. Chinese Triads."  
  
Pearson looked through the dossier. "I don't really know much about them. They've done some serious shit and all that from what I hear from the FBI." Hermione sat behind her desk and took out her glasses, looking through the dossier again. "I expected as much."  
  
"What?"  
  
"That you wouldn't know much about the Triads."  
  
"Oh. Okay then…" Hermione continued to look through the dossier and started to explain.  
  
"The Chinese Triads date back to feudal China. Centuries upon centuries. They started out as secret societies, based on the principles of clan alliance, personal indebtedness and mutual protection. They're still highly secretive and the Chinese government have only recognized them in 2001in Taiwan, Hong Kong and Macao. They've spread. Throughout China and into parts of Europe and North America. They take advantage of the freedom offered in Canada and use it to get into the United States.   
  
The Triads operate as clans, not as one giant syndicate. You could say that they're like the Scottish clans. Friends with some and enemies with others. They've branches over some major cities in the U.S. The Triads have pretty much committed every crime there is. Murder, kidnapping, drug trafficking, prostitution, smuggling aliens into the country, forgery of money and papers, bribery and money extortion. They work together. Very systematic. They're immensely powerful but secretive. They still perform ancient rituals to allow new members in. Something like drinking 'blood wine' is one of them. They have hired assassins to kill people. These assassins are given 24 hours usually to make the hit. If they don't succeed, they have to kill themselves or Triads will be after them." Pearson took a breathe. "Not very friendly are they?"  
  
Hermione glanced at him. "What exactly did you expect when you took this assignment?"  
  
Pearson shrugged. "Dunno, really. They asked, I accepted. I mean, why not?"  
  
"Yes, indeed," Hermion murmured. "Why not?"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
New York City Ling Triad Organization Branch  
  
Location: Confidential  
  
Time: Present  
  
A man sat behind a large mahogany desk, the wood real and polished, the office large and spacious. The entire wall behind him was made of glass that showed the beauty of New York City. His Armani suit showed glamour, fashion and power. The same could be said with his face and body. The office was luxurious, soundproofed so that no one could hear what went on inside. On the side was an entertainment center, with a small, cleverly hidden refrigerator. Beside it was a bar with top brand name wines. On the other side of the room was all new gym equipment as well as mirrors so whoever was working could watch themselves as they worked their muscles. Along the walls were pieces of art; a vase from the Ming Dynasty, ancient Japanese swords used by warlords, paintings by Monet and Rembrandt. Most of these were either smuggled or stolen. But some were legally bought.  
  
A knock sounded on the door. The man didn't move from his spot behind the desk, but called out a command.  
  
"Enter." In walked another man, built like a bull and sleek. His suit easily hid an unregistered Beretta with an illegal silencer. He stopped not in front of the desk but in the center of the room, his stance that could be called militaristic though he had never served in the Armed Forces. His hands were sweaty from fear of displeasing the man known and wanted by over ten countries and agencies as Danny Ling. The head of the New York City Ling Triad Branch.  
  
"Sir. The file from the CIA infiltrator."   
  
"Excellent," Danny murmured, taking the file from him. The man didn't move from his spot in the center of the office. Danny read through the file, his brow slowly starting to frown. The man, one of the Triads numerous spine crackers, began to sweat. Danny looked up to him. Smiled. "Well, it seems that the CIA has launched a new anti-terrorist and crime syndicate project. Can't have that now, can we?"  
  
"No, sir," the man stuttered.  
  
"No, indeed." Danny smiled again. "Ah, it looks like the illustrious Dr. Granger is also involved. Quite a woman." Danny placed the papers onto his desk and called up Hermione Granger's profile on a sleek state-of-the-art laptop. On the side of it showed a picture of her. The rest listed everything there was to know about her.  
  
SUBJECT: HERMIONE GRANGER  
  
AGE: 26  
  
DOB: MARCH 11, 1976  
  
SEX: FEMALE  
  
BLOOD TYPE: A POSTIVE   
  
EYE COLOR: BROWN  
  
HAIR COLOR: BROWN  
  
HEIGHT: 5'8  
  
IQ: 176 (ADULT SCALE)  
  
BIOLOGICAL PARENTS: RICHARD AND KATHERINE GRANGER   
  
NATIONALITY: AMERICAN CITIZENSHIP  
  
ABILITIES: TAE KWON DO, JUJITSU, TRADITIONAL KARATE; STANDARD CIA FIELD OPERATIVE TRAINING INCULDING WEAPONS TRAINING, HAND-TO-COMBAT, LONG AND SHORT TERM TACTICS, LEADERSHIP AND COMMAND, CODE BREAKING AND COMPUTERIZED HACKING. (SUBJECT HAS MASTERED ALL LISTED ABILITIES TO MAXIMUM CAPACITY)  
  
LANGUAGES: ENGLISH, FRENCH, ITALIAN, GERMAN, RUSSIAN, ARABIC  
  
OCCUPATION: CIA PROFILER AND PSYCHOLOGIST.   
  
HISTORY: ENROLLED INTO ST. CLAIRE'S CATHOLIC SCHOOL OF LONDON, ENGLAND FALL 1982; GRADUATED SPRING 1987; WINTER 1993, HOUSE BURNED DOWN DUE TO ELECTRICAL FAILURE, INJURIES: BROKEN WRIST, MILD CONCUSSION, VARIOUS MINOR INJURIES; SPRING 1994, MOVED TO UNITED STATES WITH PARENTS; SPRING 1994, ENROLLED INTO HARVEY PREPATORY SCHOOL (NY), GRADUATED WITH HONORS SPRING 1994; ENROLLED INTO HARVARD UNIVERSITY FALL 1994, MAJORED IN PSYCHOLOGY, MINORED IN SOCIAL ECONOMICS; GRADUATED MAGNA CUM LAUDE AND CLASS VALEDICTORIAN AND SPEAKER, FIRST IN HER CLASS RESPECTIVELY IN SPRING 1998; SUMMER 1998 APPLIED AS CIA PROFILER; WINTER 2000 MAJOR KEY PLAYER IN ARREST OF MAFIA INTERNATIONAL SMUGGLER AND ASSASSIN DOMINICK CAPOLI ALONG WITH SEVERAL MINOR MAFIA LEADERS.  
  
NOTES: MS. GRANGER IS POTENTIALLY THE IDEAL FIELD OPERATIVE FOR ANY MISSION OR SITUATION. DEMONSTRATES COOL HEADEDNESS IN DIFFICULT SITUATIONS AND OFTEN AN ALMOST UNNATURAL LACK OF FEAR TO ARMED OPPONENTS. THIS LACK OF FEAR CAN POSSIBLY BE DIRECTED AT HER NEAR DEATH EXPIERENCE IN HER LATE ADOLESCENT YEARS. THAT EXPERIENCE THAT SHOULD HAVE MADE HER MORE FEARFUL TO DEATH SEEMS TO HAVE THE OPPOSITE EFFECT. MENTAL CAPABILITY IS REMARKABLE. GENETIC DESIGN IS QUESTIONABLE; STRENGTH IS TWICE THAT OF THE AVERAGE MAN; POSSIBLE DUE TO HER INTENSE COMBAT TRAINING, SPEED IS THE SAME. MS. GRANGER IS POSSIBLY ONE OF THE FEW WHO ARE SUPERIOR TO THE ENTIRE HUMAN RACE.  
  
Danny smiled again. "Very impressive, Doctor. Very impressive. Marcus." The man snapped to attention. "It seems to me that the good doctor could prove a threat to us. After all, this profile is very accurate. Superior to the human race. Hmm." Danny looked thoughtful. "There are a few who are superior, like Dr. Granger. They often go through life without ever knowing, though the few of these almost always have high paying jobs and such. Their superiority is mostly based on their intellect and IQ levels. Dr. Granger seems to have been endowed in both the physical and mental sense. Quite amazing. Why don't we pay Dr. Granger a call? After all, no matter how superior you are, you can't stop a bullet."  
  
But strangely enough, Danny noticed that there was nothing on Hermione's high school and junior high years. He dismissed it.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Draco simply looked at the building where she lived. It was a trendy apartment building. Nice views probably. It almost seemed to suit Hermione Granger just fine. He shook his head. Slowly, he walked inside, knowing exactly where she lived. He rode the elevator up and counted the doors though the numbers were there for all to see. Here it is, Draco thought. Sixth floor, door number 26A.   
  
Draco raised his hand to knock.  
  
A/N: Well there's another finished chapter. I know, I was mean to stop just there where Draco was on the brink of seeing Hermione again. Cliffy. Ah, I enjoyed writing Hermione's profile. Yes, I have thought it over. Hermione is somehing of a superhuman. She's not aware of it, of course... Okay, now why don't y'all go run along now and review? I promise, the more reviews, the faster I'll get the next chapter up. *I LIVE ON REVIEWS* 


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